Leadership
by Timonx3
Summary: Finn is a leader. Blaine is a leader. Wes and David are leaders; Thad is a leader, albeit a... testy one. Even Sam can pass for a leader. Kurt, on the other hand, is most certainly not.


**AN**: Well, while I'm at it, I might as well, you know, wrap up more oneshots and not do what I'm supposed to.

**Warnings**: I don't know why I bother to include warnings when there's nothing to warn about. Well, maybe one; I have no beta and no form of autocorrect of spellcheck. There you are.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Gleeeeee.

* * *

So. The heads of the Dalton Academy Warblers had been invited to a meeting somewhere-far-away for something that concerned the rules of sectionals, regionals and nationals for the next couple of years. Since the Warblers only had their council, they had to go.

Well, not all of them. But Wes went, so David had to go too, because Thad didn't want to be stuck with either of them without the other. It would be awkward to room with one of them for a whole week and just hear them talk on the phone the entire time. It would be very weirdly _intimate_ conversations to overhear, because it was Wes and David and they were, for a lack of better word, rather inexplicable and Thad would be delighted if he could skip out on that whole experience.

(Both Wes and David were totally straight, they said, they even had girlfriends to prove that; but they were also doing the whole heterosexual-life-partners thing and they acted like newly weds all the time, attached at the hips, despite having known each other for years. It could have been cute, if that didn't mean that they could constantly team up against the world and _win_ most of the time.)

Blaine, while still on school grounds, was out cold. He had caught a horrible cold and could barely move an inch without passing out. It was sort of pitiful and adorable at the same time; he was snuggled up under layers of blankets and pillows, watching his favourite Disney classics on repeat while he blew his nose, coughed and attempted to complain about his misery in a dapper, very Blaine-like fashion. It came out sounding mostly like muffled, polite curses and weak pleas.

So. Three of the "leaders" of the Warblers were away. Sure, Thad was still present, but he was the sort of person who really needed to know that he had reliable backup before he threw himself headfirst into a situation that involved him taking a leading position. He had some issues with nervousness. Having Team Wevid behind him at Warblers practice did wonders for his self-esteem.

But, as it was, he didn't have Team Wevid backing him up and so Thad was rendered, to put it nicely, a... nervous wreck. Sure, the Warblers, like the rest of the school, had the no-bullying, zero-tolerance policy going strong; that didn't change the fact that the Warblers, while usually sophisticated and ambitious, were also just a horde of teenage males. They could be proper, polite and mature. They could also _not _be.

Admittedly, it was a lot because Wes and his iron grip on the Gavel of Power were gone.

So. They still had regionals coming up. It was Thursday and halfway through the third practice that consisted of doing absolutely nothing useful at all. Most of the Warblers were there and they weren't ruining anything, which should be a good thing, except they were all teamed up in small groups that all did different things.

Flint and a couple of other guys were jokingly trying to beatbox a mashup between _Grenade _and _Dynamite_, Jeff and Adam were playing rock-paper-scissors, Jackson and Nick were practicing backflips, while Thad and Max were trying to get the other to man up enough to take control and make all the boys work together. In short, they were all doing different things and it was the slightest bit... chaotic.

Kurt, who sat on one of the couches and glared at his fingers as he checked his nails, had seen a lot worse and hence the _slightest bit _chaotic. This was still nothing compared to New Directions, because add them to the equation and you had capital C _crazy_, uh huh.

Still, this was the last thing they needed. They had a few weeks until regionals, but they needed all the time they could get; they only tied at sectionals because New Directions were one diva short and Rachel didn't have a solo. Not to say that they weren't amazing - Kurt had had tears in his eyes after their performance and still felt this surge of pride in his chest whenever he thought about it; and the Warblers gobsmacked expressions on top of that; priceless indeed - but as sweet as Quinn and Sam were, they were also a bit predictable in a Barbie-and-Ken sort of way.

New Directions would be, at the very _least_, twice as good at regionals, so the Warblers also had to step up their game. Which meant that they probably had to do more than walk back and forth and snap their fingers, which meant that they needed a lot more time to practice, since these boys weren't used to an actual choreography.

So. Yeah. They needed to get their act together, but with their mighty leaders absent, they weren't getting anywhere. Kurt wanted to _win_, damn it, and if they kept this up they would never even have a chance. His patience was wearing really thin and his inner diva was rising to the surface again, his face stuck in a _bitch, please_-expression.

It wasn't until he saw Thad and Max giving up and trying to sneak out, and heard Flint and the other couple of guys stop beatboxing - as annoying and irrelevant as it was at the moment, it was still music, this was Warbler practice, so it was kind of fine - that Kurt finally got enough. He gritted his teeth and stood up. Arms crossed over his chest, he snapped, "That's _it_!"

(And when Kurt Hummel said _that's it_, looking like that, he meant serious business. The Warblers were smart enough to give him their undivided, immediate attention without question.)

"Thad, Max, sit back down. Flint, step down from the desk. Jackson, if I see your pick up your phone, you will be a _very _dead man before dawn," Kurt's face was dangerously calm, his voice _eerily_ controlled, but his eyes were stormy and conveyed his up-over-the-ears-frustration. "Now, gentlemen. We just have a _few _months until regionals, and if you keep this up, we will _lose_. We have our songs, but we haven't started working on them yet; and just because Wes is not here, it doesn't mean that we shouldn't be trying. Just because no one is telling us what to do, does not mean that we can slack off and do whatever."

He paused briefly and let his words sink in. If his Serious Talk didn't have the desired effect, his do-not-mess-with-me-posture probably would.

"Now, what's going to happen here, is that we're all going to sit down and discuss our song selection and our performance. We will all listen to Thad and we will _not _stick chewed gums underneath the table, Jeff, I can see you," Kurt would have laughed at Jeff's stricken expression, had he not been in the middle of something that required him to retain the _bitch, please_-look. "We will do this properly, like we would if Wes, David and Blaine were here. I will not let their absence be the cause of our loss at regionals. I assure you that I will personally deal with anyone whom I see aren't doing their best. Are we clear, boys?"

After a wave of nods and a few, scattered yessir's, the Warblers sat down and actually started a real _meeting_, for real, and they were calm and collected and polite and frustratingly uptight, but that's how it was supposed to be. That's how it worked with these guys so it was fine.

After pratice Kurt received more friendly claps on the back than usual, more high-fives, and a total of four guys stopped to tell him how awesome it was that at least one of them could get their act together enough to grasp control of the situation and make them all cooperate; a total of eight guys said that they hadn't been expecting Kurt to be the one to man up and take the job and that it was sort of impressive.

As Kurt fiddled with the shoulder strap of his ever-present satchel and checked his phone for anything new, he supposed he should feel sort of proud for helping the boys get their heads together and take practice seriously. He should probably feel proud, and triumphant; he had stepped up and taken control and made it work, even without the Force or the Gavel of Power.

Kurt didn't, not really. He didn't feel particularly _bad_ about it - just not satisfied and accomplished as someone else might have. He might relish in being in the centre of attention, loved to perform and act and _sing_ and make sure everyone saw him - but that wasn't the same as being a leader. Controlling others like that, while not awful in any way, just wasn't his fort. That was more Team Wevid's style.

Turning a corner, Kurt absently decided to pick up two cups and some tea before heading to Blaine's room. No, he wasn't really a leader. Kurt wasn't an irresponsible person, but he logically assumed that he wouldn't exactly be comfortable if a whole group of people relied on him; it was a heavy weight and responsibility to carry. He liked being _part _of a group; one of the divas in New Directions, one of the few who knew who they were in the midst of all the high school chaos, the one everyone turned to for advice at some point. He was also the capital-letter-deserving Gay Kid. And Awesome. And Fabulous.

It worked in the same way with the Warblers, and Kurt was absolutely fine with that. It was mind-numbingly comfortable in a good way; he didn't aspire to be a great leader one day. He just aspired to be great.

Kurt puttered around in the small kitchen in their wing of the school, grabbed a tray and two cups while the kettle boiled. When everything was done, he strided onward, tray in his hands as he walked toward Blaine's dorm, humming contently for himself.

So. The conclusion? Finn was a leader. Blaine was a leader. Wes and David were leaders; Thad was a leader, albeit a... testy one. Even Sam could pass for a leader. Kurt, on the other hand, was most certainly not - and he was fine with that.


End file.
